Friendly Conspiracy
by KLMeri
Summary: When Jim told them to play nice, he didn't actually expect them to do it. Gen. - COMPLETE
1. Part One

**Title**: Friendly Conspiracy (1/2)  
**Author**: klmeri  
**Fandom**: Star Trek AOS  
**Characters**: Kirk, Spock, McCoy  
**Summary**: When Jim told them to play nice, he didn't actually expect them to do it.

* * *

As is typical aboard the starship Enterprise, many of the active shift personnel are gathered in the mess hall on their hour break. There is some low chatter among the occupied tables, and nothing stands glaringly out of the ordinary.

Earlier on, Jim Kirk had rousted Leonard McCoy from Sickbay so that they might dine together, coaxing his friend to the hall by saying if he eats without Leonard, he will not eat healthy. They pick their seating at a table with only a few other officers. Jim does not believe in the segregation by rank which exists on some ships and is wont to join whichever group he fancies at the moment; however he cannot deny that he and his senior staff tend to congregate together on the off-chance they are scheduled to work the same shift. He thinks this occurs because they are closely bonded by past ordeals and are, of a sort, family.

It does not surprise him, then, when he and McCoy are joined halfway through their meal by the most unsocial person on the ship. Spock is notorious for skipping mealtime altogether, which he claims is often an unwelcome distraction from his work. But it seems he has made an exception today. The conversations of the Mess halt momentarily at the commander's entrance. Wisely people resume interest elsewhere since staring is rude, though a few of them continue to indulge in sidelong glances as the Vulcan procures his food and crosses the hall.

On the other hand, Jim thinks nothing of it. He points to an empty spot across from him. "Sit," he orders.

Spock obeys.

Jim cuts a look at Leonard, who normally scowls whenever someone has the audacity to arrange it so that Leonard and Spock are sitting in very close proximity to one another. Strangely though, this time McCoy's expression remains unperturbed.

Picking up his eating utensil, Jim returns his attention to his meal. He asks Spock about an ongoing project to restructure the Requisitions department, intending to encourage light conversation at the table. When the three men aren't talking, the silence is fairly comfortable between them.

Jim gives an internal sigh with relief and picks up a glass of water.

At this moment Spock places his fork to the side of his table and turns to the person next to him. "Dr. McCoy," he says, as if there is something of great significance about to be expressed and he requires the doctor's full attention.

Leonard pauses mid-chew to return Spock's stare. Both of his eyebrows go up in an inquiring manner.

A pleased little smile forms at the edges of Jim's mouth. He hides it by sipping at his water.

Spock is, as always, matter-of-fact in his statements, no matter their content. "I am pleased to share this meal with you today."

Kirk chokes.

Not taking his eyes off the Vulcan, Leonard slides a napkin across the table within reach of Jim's hand. "That's mighty nice of you to say, Mr. Spock. Thank you. I'm pleased too."

"Whaaa—what?" coughs out their captain, still choking. He has to cover his mouth with the napkin to prevent a spray of food and spit.

Spock blinks placidly. "Thank you, Doctor. At your convenience, I would like to invite you to Science Laboratory 3-B. I believe there is a recent analysis of the isotonic effects of the amoeba-like creature we encountered last month which will interest you."

Leonard's eyes light up as he puts down his fork. "Sounds good. I'm finished eating, and it looks like you are too. Why don't we go there now?"

They turn back to their trays, collect utensils, bowls and plates and lift the trays, standing up in tandem.

Jim swallows his next cough in order to cry, "Wait!"

"Captain?" remarks Spock with mild interest while Leonard just stares at Jim waiting for him to spit out whatever it is he has to say.

Jim realizes he has no right to pry into their business and no good reason to detain them. He rubs surreptitiously at his still watering eyes and says somewhat lamely, "See you on the Bridge."

The Vulcan nods.

"Finish your vegetables," orders Leonard. Then he follows Spock from the Officers' Mess.

Jim looks at the spot where his two friends had been for a long time before asking, "What the hell just happened?"

The man at the opposite end of the table takes a bite of a large sandwich and chews it thoughtfully. "I dunno know," comes the eventual reply, "but my horoscope did say something unexpected would happen today. By chance, are you a Capricorn too?"

With a roll of his eyes, Jim pushes away from the table.

Why is he fixating on this? It's nothing—just his two friends maybe, possibly, however improbably, acting like they can get along. No, it's more important to concentrate on the ship he has to run.

"Never mind," he mutters to Scotty as he collects his tray. "I'll be on the Bridge if anyone needs me."

Then Jim Kirk, too, is gone.

* * *

Jim is not plagued by his own curiosity; he's just bored. It's with this excuse late during gamma shift that he ventures through the bathroom to quiz Spock on his terribly-interesting-to-medical-doctors experiment in Science Lab 3-B.

He makes certain to call ahead in warning. "Spock, are you there? Er, if Uhura's with you, ask her not to hit me! I'm coming in any—" Just then the bathroom door slides open giving him a good view of the room. "—_Bones?_"

Leonard McCoy, seated at a round table, casts a look in Jim's direction. "Oh, hey."

Dumbfounded, Jim lingers on the threshold between Spock's private cabin and bathroom. "Um, hey," he replies back, unable to think of what else to say.

Apparently Leonard sees no need to explain his presence in the First Officer's quarters. He and Jim exchange a stare in silence until the man turns back to the data padd in his hand. Jim can see him flipping through a journal.

"Spock?" Jim questions, taking a hesitant step forward.

"He was called down to Geology to take a look at some readings. If you want to wait, I'm sure he'll be back shortly."

Jim has never felt more awkward. "I should go?" He makes it a question.

"Okay," replies the other man in a distracted tone. "I'll tell Spock that you stopped by."

"...Right." Jim backs up, then, all the way into the bathroom and beyond to the safety of his own quarters. Once he is alone, he whispers at the closed door, "_What is going on?_"

No logical answer is forthcoming.

* * *

In case anyone ever asks, spying on one's own ship is not against regulations. In fact, Jim is fairly certain because he is the Captain he is practically obligated to keep tabs on his crew.

This is why he has been lingering outside the main med bay for nearly an hour. As officers and staff pass him with curious looks, he pretends to contemplate a bulletin board that promotes flu vaccinations. He goes so far as to say to some of them, when they stare for too long, "Have you gotten this? No? Then you should."

"Yes, Captain," they always reply, then hurry on their way.

Currently there is a new pair of eyes on his back. Oh, these cute crewmen of his! Jim points at the bulletin. "Have you gotten this? You should. Captain's orders!"

It is the head nurse who appears in his side view.

Jim has only a brief second to think, _shit_.

Christine smiles at him. "It's a mandate for medical staff to stay current with their vaccinations, Captain Kirk..." Her pause is significant so that Jim can realize he has made a mistake of epic proportions. "...whereas I _know_ that you have not been vaccinated. It seems a little hypocritical of someone to tell others to comply when he has not."

"But... I'm the captain?"

"Of course you are, sir." The nurse latches onto his command-gold tunic sleeve. "Come along. We have a hypo we've saved just for you."

"But—"

They enter Sickbay with Christine calling out, "The Captain wants a flu shot!"

There is something telling about the way patients and practitioners alike look up in surprise or stick their heads around corners to ask "Is he really here?"

Then Dr. M'Benga, McCoy's second-in-command, appears next to them without warning. "This is excellent news. Hello, Captain."

Jim doesn't like the way M'Benga snaps the material of one of his gloves as he speaks. "There's been a mistake."

"On the contrary, I believe there has been a miracle," replies M'Benga in a dry tone.

Christine happily transfers Jim's arm to the doctor. Jim considers this as evidence that Bones has the most frightening staff on the ship.

"Christine," M'Benga tells her with the utmost professionalism as he directs Jim to a biobed in another area of the bay, "please inform Dr. McCoy the Captain has arrived for his flu shot, as well as for last week's missed physical."

When they are at the edge of the biobed, M'Benga gives Jim a polite little push but Jim stiffens. M'Benga's second push is a little less polite. Jim locks his kneecaps.

"I have a thing to do," he insists.

"You spent the last hour and a half in the corridor scaring away our business."

"Medical is not a business, Dr. M'Benga."

"Actually it is," comes a new voice. Leonard enters the private room, followed by a familiar figure which stops just in the doorway.

"_Spock_," Jim says with part accusation for his predicament and part plea for rescue.

Leonard nods slightly at M'Benga, who nods back and lets go of Jim. The man brushes past Spock on his way out of the room. Leonard's hand takes the place of M'Benga's on Jim's arm. When he pushes on the arm, Jim sits down automatically. He flushes a moment later, realizing that he might be more conditioned than he thought.

"Doctoring is a business if you think about it. People want medical care, and we give it to them. It's supply and demand, which on this ship can be provided within reason and according to Starfleet's guidance."

"Not everybody wants what you're selling," mutters Jim.

"Spoken like a true idiot," replies Leonard fondly. "Spock? I'm sorry but I need to take care of this."

"Of course, Doctor. Captain," Spock adds from the doorway, "it is encouraging to see that you take your health seriously."

While staring hard at his First Officer, Jim makes one last bid for freedom. "Don't we have that... thing on the Bridge to take care of, Mr. Spock?"

The Vulcan merely lifts an eyebrow. "I am aware of no matter on the Bridge requiring our attention at this time, sir. However, in the event that I am incorrect," and here Spock's tone leaves no doubt that he knows Jim is lying, "I will request your release immediately." To McCoy he says, "We should convene this evening to finish our discussion ."

"Sure, Spock."

Spock turns and disappears into the main bay.

"Okay, what is it with you and—uh, Bones?" The hypospray Leonard is loading distracts him.

"I'm listening, Jim."

Jim's palms start to sweat. "To be fair, you're making me a little nervous here. Why did you just pick up the largest hypospray on that tray?"

"Because it's the one with your name on it."

"No, seriously, why—ACK!" He slaps a hand to the spot on his neck where Leonard had just stabbed him.

There is a tiny satisfied curl to Leonard's mouth. "That was vitamins. I'm sure you need them. Now we'll take care of your flu shot. Hold still, this second one may sting."

Jim groans, wondering if admitting defeat now would at least save him from the rest of what Leonard has planned.

As if his friend can read his mind, Leonard shakes his head slightly and tells his captain to suck it up. "Better to pay the piper now, Jim-boy. Maybe next time you won't be so interested in sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

"I was minding my own business—GAH, SHIT! Not in the same spot, Bones!"

"Infant."

"Sadist!"

When Leonard turns away to reload the hypospray again (and seriously, how many shots does a guy have to endure as penance?), Jim stares at his back and wonders exactly what could have changed between Leonard and Spock. More importantly, to what end?

Sadly, his torture session in Sickbay wounds his pride as much as his poor neck, and so he escapes when he can, forgetting to ask.

* * *

"_Captain's Log, Stardate 2261.55. Star-charting has never been the most glamorous assignment for a federation ship but we recognize its purpose and our duty to fulfill it. I would like to note that I was lately informed by the ship's psychiatrist that the crew has the earmarks of restlessness. I made it known that our schedule keeps us in this sector of space for one more week and I expect everyone onboard to stay on their best behavior until the last second of this assignment—and then I promised a shore leave soon after to relieve our cabin fever. Unfortunately, we have to rendezvous with the Gallant before we can scout any local resorts or stations to take leave. Things may turn a little hairy before then but I have faith in this crew. Barring that, I also have the ability to lock mischief-makers in the brig. Myself excluded, of course._"

A low chuckle is heard, which softens into a sigh.

"_On a personal note, I am as ill-content as some of my crewmen. I feel that something strange is happening. Not dangerous, of course; simply unnerving. Relations between my First and my CMO are—good. For years, they have made an art of finding fault with each other over the simplest things. I know I've told them to try to work out their differences. Hell, I have even made that an order when in a particularly foul mood, and that generally shuts them up for a day or two. But this... this is different. I think they might be, that is maybe they are—I just don't know. Damn. Why am I even talking about this in an official log? Stupid, Jim! Computer, delete the last thirty seconds of entry._"

* * *

Soon enough, Commander Spock and Dr. McCoy act as though they could be attached at the hip. During one beta shift, they are seen walking side by side along a busy corridor. Jim is traveling in the opposite direction and cannot help but notice that though the two officers are not conversing Leonard and Spock appear to be comfortable with each other.

Naturally he backtracks to follow them, sprinting that last meter or so in order to squeeze himself into the turbolift now occupied by his second-in-command and senior medical officer before the door shuts him out completely.

"Jim," Leonard says upon seeing him, sounding baffled, "what are you doing?"

_I want to ask you that, Bones._ Jim lifts a hand and scratches at the back of his head, giving both Spock and McCoy a serene smile. "Changed my mind about my heading. I think I'll go to the gym. Where is your destination?"

"The latest Botany exhibit," replies Spock.

"Sulu's got a new plant that he wants to show off," Leonard adds with a touch of dry amusement. "Apparently she's a real sweetheart."

Jim is not fond of sentient plants, especially the kind that Hikaru Sulu befriends. The last time he had tried to pet a nice-smelling, colorful flower head named Gerturde, she screeched at him and riled up an army of vines to hang him upside down from the ceiling. It had taken the better part of a day and the entire department of botanists to coax the vines to release him. Every now and then Sulu still gives Jim this betrayed look of _what did you do to my poor Gertrude?_

No, he's definitely not going to risk his skin for the sake of tagging along with his friends.

"Have fun," he tells them. "Don't piss off any of the ones with teeth."

Spock says, "That would be your forte, Captain."

Leonard grins between them and bobs on the balls of his feet. "We promise, Jim."

Jim stays behind in the lift when the pair exits on the next deck; but as soon as the descent of the lift begins, he regrets his decision. Cursing himself in Klingon, he commands the lift computer to backtrack and hops out of the turbolift.

Leonard and Spock are standing there, waiting for him.

"Told you," the doctor says smugly to the Vulcan.

Without reply, Spock locks his hands behind his back and turns away. His long strides carry him down the corridor at a quick pace. Leonard and Jim hurry to catch up.

* * *

_Dr. McCoy has a Vulcan shadow_, some of the crew take to whispering.

Jim Kirk hears this one day and begins to realize an overactive imagination isn't at fault. Everyone else sees the change too.

* * *

_"Personal Log, James T. Kirk. Stardate Confused._

_Today Spock and Bones visited one of the rec rooms together. Spock had a lyre. Bones had a mint julep. I have asked the computer to track their whereabouts and route a report to my personal console. I've already pulled the last six months of history and analyzed it. My conclusion is two people who exist to repeal one another are in fact _socializing _outside of ship's business on a regular basis and notably this change in behavior is recent. They have not argued—if Bones and Spock even disagree at all these days—in front any member of the crew in nearly three weeks._

_Knowing this, I feel nervous for a reason I cannot explain. It would be foolish to claim that I did not wish for a reconciliation between my two dearest friends, yet it is remarkably unsettling to see it with my own eyes. Moreover, I may have to address it soon, if only to make them aware of the effect that this partnership has on the rest of us._

_But what would I say when I remain undecided on the nature of this change myself?"_

* * *

"Captain Kirk, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

From just inside an open doorway, Jim eyes the woman in science blues. His greeting is cautious. "Hello, Dr. Noel."

Her smile never falters. "It's Helen, sir. May I call you Jim?"

Feeling doubly wary, he says that she can.

Helen Noel, the Enterprise's resident psychiatrist, gestures at a small sitting area which is part of her office. Jim takes a seat on the far end of a narrow couch and Helen joins him a moment later. She crosses her legs and folds her hands over one knee.

Jim has no liking for behavioral specialists. Some of this may be due to his past; some of it may simply stem from his discomfort in sharing anything about himself. But he tries to give Noel the benefit of the doubt because she is part of his crew—and his crew are the best at what they do.

He also desperately needs advice, which ironically he cannot get from either of his normal sources.

Jim clears his throat. He remembers Noel easily. They have interacted in meetings, on away missions and at social events; she has a fine sense of humor and pretty brown eyes that twinkle after a couple of glasses of wine. He had honestly hoped he would never have a need to see her during her office hours.

His explanation for the impromptu visit is not his smartest: "I have a question—just a question out of curiosity—that I thought you might have an answer to."

"Ah," the doctor murmurs. "Does this question concern yourself or others?"

He hesitates, uncertain. "Both?"

"How about this: I won't ask for specifics. You can say Friend 1 and Friend 2."

He frowns. "How do you know there were two friends?"

"Are there?" Helen replies in a mild tone. "And are they close friends of yours?"

Jim folds his arms and leans back. "I wouldn't know that since we aren't talking about anyone I am in contact with _personally_."

"Yes, Captain." She starts to smile again. "Now, Jim, what is your question?"

"Suppose," he begins, glancing around her office, "there are two—two guys who _don't_ get along at all. They're complete opposites. One is fiery and passionate; the other is coldly logical. One of them ignores rules that he doesn't like, and the other feels obligated to follow them. One is human, and one is—" He stops abruptly and blinks at her. "—Tellarite."

Her eyebrows lift. "Tellarites are by far the least logical species in this galaxy."

Jim waves off her remark. "Basically these men are different in every way. They don't agree on anything."

"Hm."

"What's that mean?"

"It means that I wonder if they really are so different."

"Of course they are!"

"And is that why your Friend 1 and Friend 2 don't get along? Do they argue so viciously it makes you wince? Do they claim that they cannot tolerate each other?"

"Yes."

Helen gives a small huff. "Jim, why would you be friends with such radically different people? Surely you could not appreciate them both."

He unfolds his arms and sits up. "It's not like that. They're good men. So maybe one's too far left, and other is too far right but that... that just balances it all out, right?"

"Exactly," the psychiatrist says. "Differences are never bad things unless we make them so, and I would bet that you've spent quite a lot of time trying to explain that."

He catches himself nodding. "Okay, but why are you telling me this? Shouldn't you be saying this to, I don't know, others who exhibit this behavior?"

It's only then that a hint of smugness shines through the woman's demeanor. "Maybe I have."

Jim looks at her. Then he looks some more. "Explain."

Helen releases her knee and uncrosses her legs, sitting forward. "While I do have some autonomy in this profession, like every member of the medical staff I am still required to uphold patient confidentiality. You are an intelligent man, Jim; therefore I know you can appreciate my delicate position. But given that you are also the captain of this ship, I believe I have the liberty to say this to you: I have spoken with Friend 1 and Friend 2—or should I say Dr. McCoy and Mr. Spock?—individually as well as together on a very similar subject."

Jim sits back. "They came to see you?"

"Shouldn't they? They are conscientious men who take their responsibilities on this ship and their friendship with you very seriously."

"I... don't know what to say."

"Say nothing to me if you like, but I do encourage you to speak with them."

Jim almost bites down on his lip but thinks better of it. "Why?"

"Because you are uncomfortable when you see them associating without conflict. The fact is you are so discomforted that you felt you had to come see _me_."

He doesn't like this insinuation. "I'm fine with it. I'm ecstatic. It's all I ever wanted!"

But the doctor only shakes her head. "You are a poor liar, sir. This change between Spock and McCoy means a change for you as well. You already anticipate that your friends will no longer need you to the same extent as before, and you may even fear some of their affection for you will wane to accommodate their newfound friendship."

Jim stands up, the muscles of his jaw working. He wants to say that she's wrong but then he would be a liar.

Helen does not rise to meet him. From her chair, she advises, "Talk to them. Address the issue before it festers into misunderstanding. This friendship which your officers are putting forth the effort to cultivate—and which I promise you is a struggle for them—is borne of a desire to appease you. You should acknowledge that if nothing else, Jim."

"That will be all, Dr. Noel."

"Yes," she agrees with a decisive nod, "it will. Good day, Captain."

Jim is at a disadvantage of having to walk away from a battle he knows he lost. It grates against him as he goes but once he is outside Noel's office his anger softens.

What did Bones and Spock do? And for him?

The man sighs through his nose.

Damn Helen for being right. He may just need to give her a commendation for her good sense—after, of course, talking to his friends proves to have positive results.

* * *

**TBC. Well, this was going to be a funny one-shot - and then it wasn't. I really need to stop doing this to myself.**


	2. Part Two

To say Jim is terrible at discussing his feelings would be a grave understatement. He can laugh at his feelings. He can talk around them. He can even vomit them out in a sudden, horrific display of violence or depression brought on by keeping the damn things suppressed for years at a time. But to address them directly?

It's un-heard of.

Jim isn't wary of feelings because he was raised that way. He just knows that having them doesn't often make a difference in what is to come. Loving his mother didn't keep her grounded on Earth for more than a year at a time. Hating his uncle didn't change the fact that he had to live with the man. Missing those who had died, including the father he never knew, did not make anyone more alive or help Jim get along without them. People would say _of course it matters how you feel, Jimmy_, but he has often wondered to himself, does it? If he could be less human, he might have a quick answer to that and a life philosophy to back it up; but he is very, definitely human in the emotional sense and on top of that, hopelessly inept at handling his feelings in a healthy, harmless way. He doesn't have a Vulcan's fortitude or a healer's instinct. To him, strong emotions are always of the raw and unwanted variety. He knows too well that they can hurt him as much as he can use them to hurt others.

So... having a conversation on how he feels? On the best of days, the thought downright terrifies him.

Seated at the edge of his bed, he sighs as Jim thinks on the matter. He honestly has no idea how he is going to face Spock and McCoy long enough to discuss what's troubling him.

Knowing it has to be done, it seems, doesn't make the task any easier.

* * *

The Captain's chair is the best seat on the ship. Jim is always at home there even when he feels unwelcome everywhere else. At present the bridge screen view has a very calming effect on him, being filled within nothing more than distant winking stars and a stray, misty-thin nebula. His eyes have started to fall closed.

There comes the sound of the turbolift depositing someone of the deck. Jim's sixth sense tells him it's Bones who has arrived for a visit, and he stirs a little in anticipation of seeing his friend.

Seconds pass. Footfalls come and go.

Jim finally looks around, only to discover his guess is very wrong. Leonard has no intention of coming to stand by his chair as usual. The doctor is walking leisurely along the upper level, hands clasped at his back. He nods in passing to the officer manning Weapons and Security. He drawls, "Afternoon, Lieutenant" to Uhura. Then he stops at the Science station and stares at Spock. Spock turns slightly in his chair to stare back. They don't speak.

Jim has to loosen his grip on the arms of his chair. He can't be too conspicuous. He can't...

Shit.

He's out of the chair before he thinks better of it, striding towards the pair.

Leonard is peering over Spock's shoulder now at something on the computer console, and Spock is not shunning the interest.

Jim breathes deeply twice before he comes abreast of them. "Bones, Spock," he says in a halting way, "we need to talk."

Leonard straightens up but with a lack of understanding in his eyes. "Jim?"

He infuses his voice with a little more steel. "Gentlemen, with me."

There is no question of the order this time. They follow him to the Ready Room on the portside. Jim moves deep into the room. Only when he feels he is at a safe distance does he turn around to face them.

They don't know why he's brought them here, why this conversation cannot be held on the Bridge. He sees that much.

There is no good way to start, Jim thinks with a bit of despair. He gestures between Spock and McCoy. "What's going on with you two?"

"Don't know what you mean, Jim."

"Yes, please clarify, Captain."

"Guys, I thought the point of... this," again he makes the same gesture, "was so that I _would _notice. Or do you just think I'm as dumb as an Andorran bat?"

Leonard's mouth thins, and he looks to Spock. Spock does nothing.

Is it possible they are as uncomfortable talking about this as Jim is?

Jim wishes he knew. He turns and paces a half-circle that stays wide of the other men. Well, he won't say anything either. It's their turn, not his.

At last, Leonard crosses his arms and sighs. "Somebody break here, a'right?"

Jim points out, "That's what you're doing, Bones."

"Am not!" retorts the man. "Even if I wanted to—" Suddenly he clams up.

Jim stills, making something of that he does not like. "What does that mean? Are you implying it's my fault?" His temper rises. "I didn't say you had to be friends with Spock!"

"Technically," replies the person in question, "you did."

"When?" he demands.

"Whoa," Leonard intercedes, "that's not where this conversation needs to be heading. Jim, stop it. Don't get angry."

But Jim wants to be angry. Anger, he understands. Anger, he has always had a modicum of control over. He puffs out a loud breath of air.

"_Relax_," Leonard emphasizes.

Interpreting Leonard's expression as _don't you dare do otherwise, kid_, Jim forces his fists to open and lets his arms hang loose at his sides.

By this time, Spock has crossed his arms to mirror McCoy.

"Damn it," Jim bursts out, looking from one to the other, "why the hell are you doing this to me? I'm not okay here, okay? I didn't want to _force_ you to be nice to each other!"

"Jim."

"It was supposed to just _happen_, Bones," he says to Leonard, since Spock and his frank stare unnerves Jim more.

"Jim, nothing just happens," his friend argues, tone a bit dry. "But you didn't force us."

When Spock opens his mouth, the doctor's elbow jabs at a pocket of air near the Vulcan, which Spock has apparently learned at some point is a gesture that means he needs to stay quiet.

"You didn't," Leonard insists, gaze fixed steadily on Jim. "Sure, you might have given us an order, but like either Spock or I would listen to that nonsense."

"Thanks?"

"Don't thank me yet, kid. I am still a bit pissed about that. We'll discuss the particulars later."

Oh joy. Jim eyes Leonard, doubting very much that he will enjoy that future chat. Bones has some very peculiar notions of when Jim is his friend and when Jim is his captain. Mostly, Jim is the friend—and that means he gets yelled at a lot, even for the captain-related things.

"My point, Jim, is that Spock and I acknowledged a problem and made a mutual decision on what to do about it. Now," the man says too patiently, "why don't you ask us how it's going?"

"I can see how it's going. The whole _ship_ can. Seriously..." Now Jim looks to Spock. "...don't you find it creepy?"

"I admit to some discomfort."

"Be complimentary," Leonard mutters under his breath.

Spock tilts his head in the man's direction. "Doctor, do you wish me to lie?"

Leonard's facial expression wavers between a hint of his usual annoyance and something else. He says severely, "If you think you're going to break the rule, then don't say anything at all."

"Wait," Jim calls out, lifting a hand. "What rule?"

Again, the doctor mutters under his breath.

"There are guidelines we should follow in order to facilitate a healthy interaction," Spock explains. "Dr. McCoy was referring to the one which states _give compliments._"

"My god," says Leonard, putting a hand to his face. "Why don't you just go ahead and pull out the handbook and bring about the end to the meager respect our co-workers may still have for us?"

Jim's eyes widen. "There's a handbook?"

"Indeed."

"You don't have to look quite so delighted at our suffering, Jim."

"Bones, you don't understand. This is... this makes a _difference_."

Leonard stares at him as if he's grown another head.

Jim opens his mouth and then closes it, realizing he is close to making a confession. He clears his throat and turns partly away. "So basically you're still not getting along that well."

To Jim's surprise, Leonard faces Spock and asks, "Did that sound suspicious to you?"

"If I had to infer his reaction based upon that statement, I would surmise that Jim prefers we do not have a cordial association despite any prior—and very vocal—objections."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Hey, now wait a minute, guys..."

"I mean, I thought, surely no one can be that hypocritical, let alone that much of a _jackass_, but—"

"You can't call me a jackass, Bones!"

Leonard stalks toward him. "Then tell me, Jim, why did you just look as pleased as punch?"

"Uh." Oops, maybe that hadn't been the right thing to say after all. Jim starts a hasty backpedal. "I just meant that things aren't as they seem! Over the last few weeks, I was worried—no, I mean, I saw that you were close. You had me convinced you were buddies."

Leonard looks at him long and hard.

Spock uncrosses his arms. "Jim, may I ask you a question?"

"Is it a trick question?"

"Since when does Spock ask trick questions?" says Leonard sharply.

This is not good. Not good at all, especially given that Bones is jumping to the Vulcan's defense. "You're right. Forget I said that. Sure, Spock. Ask."

"Why would I not be a suitable friend for Dr. McCoy?"

Jim doesn't panic. Not under Klingon phaser fire, not when his ship is falling out of orbit and his crew are dying, not when Kodos' man puts a rifle to his head and says, _This one too?_

But facing down Leonard and Spock in this moment brings him close to it. It's all he can do to find words that won't betray him: "You would be a good friend to him. An excellent friend, Spock."

Out of the blue, Leonard leans back and nods like he has confirmed something. "And I would be an excellent friend to Spock."

"Yes," Jim replies, mouth going dry.

McCoy turns to the Vulcan. "A better friend, wouldn't you say?"

Spock stares at Leonard for a long time before slowly lifting an eyebrow. "Affirmative. The question then becomes: why would a friendship would be necessary with our captain at all?"

Jim laughs. It's not a steady sound. "Okay, enough! I get what you're doing."

"I doubt you do, Jim-boy. Spock and I just declared mutiny."

"And now you're going to take my ship? Try again, Bones. You know I won't believe that."

Leonard locks his hands behind his back and rocks backwards on his heels. "Who said anything about the ship? We're just deciding that we don't need you as a friend."

"You don't mean that."

"Don't we?"

"Fine." Jim locks a smile into place. "Wonderful. Congratulations on your new Vulcan bestie. Glad we had this talk."

Pointing at Jim, Leonard exclaims to Spock, "Did you see that?"

"Indeed I did."

"Nothing to see," Jim tells them tightly, moving for the exit to the Ready Room. "You're dismissed." He's glad his legs are holding him up. He can make it as far as the chair. He knows he can.

Someone catches his arm.

"Hey," Leonard says, his tone gentler yet firm enough that Jim stops to listen. "Jim. You could have said something."

"I could say a lot of things," Jim replies, bitter, "but most of it would be pointless anyway."

"What's that mean?"

He pulls Leonard's hand from his arm. "Nothing, Bones. I shouldn't have made a big deal out of this. I know that now."

"Jim!"

Jim looks away, repeating in an unyielding tone, "I said _dismissed_, McCoy."

Leonard sucks in a breath, but Jim doesn't wait to hear anything else. He slips away to the Bridge.

* * *

"He's being irrational."

"That is why it is called an irrational fear, Dr. McCoy." Spock comes to stand beside Leonard, and the Vulcan's glance, though quick, is almost accusatory in nature. "Why did you not anticipate this reaction?"

Leonard sighs. "Contrary to belief, Spock, I don't spend my time psycho-analyzing that man. If I did, there would never be room for anything else. He's got more tricks and traps than a magician at a county fair."

"You are his closest friend."

"You're pretty darn close to him too, you know, especially since—" Leonard swallows and doesn't finish that statement. "My point is don't place all the blame on me. You've been as blind as I have."

Spock gives a slight nod.

Leonard sighs again and, after a little hesitating, lays a hand on the Vulcan's arm. In all matters Jim, he is grateful that at least they can speak to each other candidly. "Listen, I'm sorry. It's not your fault or mine. He has abandonment issues. We've always known that much, but still he's particularly good at keeping it under wraps. I can tell you that I never would have guessed how he felt, Spock, because in the time since he and I have known each other, I've had other friends and haven't heard so much as a peep out of him about it." After a pause, he grumbles halfheartedly, "Leave it to Jim to think you're the special one."

Spock looks down at Leonard's hand as if it is a thing to be studied. "That is not a compliment, Doctor."

Leonard pulls away. "Sorry, I'm fresh out of them."

"Apparently you had a small repertoire to begin with."

The man snorts, then says somewhat thoughtfully, "We're gettin' better at this."

"Yes." Spock turns his gaze back to the closed Bridge door. "However it serves no purpose to exchange one familiarity for another."

"Agreed. But how to fix it?" Leonard taps a finger against his mouth for a moment.

"We could apologize."

"Sure, but then he'd convince himself it's his fault that we gave up trying to get along."

"Would we stop trying?" Spock sounds genuinely curious as he asks this question.

Leonard smiles a little at him. "Not really. You're starting to grow on me, you know. And by the time Jim realizes he really does like it better when we're all getting along, you and I will have worked out how to succeed at it."

"That seems like a reasonable plan."

Leonard's smile widens. "I know it is, and I don't need Noel's handbook on Holding Conversations with Vulcans without Upsetting Nature to figure out how to go about it. Hell, if I could write my own handbook, then I'd—" Abruptly he stops there, holding his breath.

Spock shifts toward him. "Dr. McCoy?"

Leonard's face lights up. "Spock!" he cries. "I have it!"

The Vulcan raises both eyebrows.

"I know how to make things right with Jim."

Spock doesn't ask him for details. He simply says, "Then we must do it."

"You bet we will," the doctor states. "Now, c'mon, time for work. I'll comm you later on where to meet me."

And so they exit the Ready Room together.

* * *

This is not indulging in a high-class cocktail in the off-duty hours. Jim knocks back his first glass of brandy with determination, quickly followed by a second, and grimaces at the sour taste left behind in his mouth.

What had he done?

Helen said don't let it fester into misunderstanding. And didn't he just screw that up?

But he couldn't have said the words, those nasty little buggers borne of fear, disillusionment, and jealousy. He couldn't admit that he wanted to be the one and only best friend because he was afraid of sharing. And, god, how selfish did that sound?

Jim reaches for the decanter to pour a third drink just as his cabin entrance chimes.

_Bones_, he thinks. _Or Spock._

Probably both.

The chime sounds again, this time for several seconds longer.

Definitely at least Bones.

Jim wipes at his mouth and pushes his glass and the brandy to the opposite end of the table where it won't be easily seen from the doorway. Then he goes to answer the summons because it isn't likely the person will stop pestering him. He smells his breath on the way, deciding it won't give him away.

The cabin door recedes into the wall and Jim stands awkwardly exposed by the corridor light filtering into his quarters.

"Jim," Leonard begins then stops to frown, a tall Vulcan at his back. "...Have you been drinking?"

Jim resists a sigh. "Is your reason for this visit urgent, Dr. McCoy? If not, I'm not on duty and I'm quite busy."

That seems to be the entirely wrong thing to say. Forgoing a rebuttal, Jim's friend shoulders him aside and marches into the cabin uninvited.

"Spock," Jim says sharply, but the Vulcan gives him nary a glance before following on McCoy's heels.

"Thought so," mutters the doctor, picking up the bottle of bluish colored liquor. "A little early in the evening to be knocking back a few rounds, isn't it, Jim?"

Jim takes the bottle from him, nonplussed. "What I do is my business."

"Not to your physician and your first officer."

So that's how they want to play this? Jim's mouth tips up at one corner. "Actually, it might be relevant to my _friends_, but I don't seem to have those anymore."

"That is the stupidest thing you have ever said," Leonard replies flatly. "Spock, the chair."

Spock pulls out a chair at the table.

"Sit down," Jim is ordered.

Jim widens his stance and crosses his arms. "No."

"This isn't a game, Jim. Sit down."

"I said no."

"Jim," Spock urges quietly, lending his voice to the command.

"Better do it," advises Leonard. "Otherwise I'll convince Spock to put you down Vulcan-style."

"You wouldn't!" Jim's neck muscle twitches, already feeling the ghostly pressure of a pinch.

Leonard meets and holds his gaze. "Try me."

Damn. Bones isn't bluffing. Jim blows out a breath and drops into a careless sprawl in the chair.

Spock and Leonard sit on either side of him, effectively trapping him in. His dislike for this situation is growing by the minute.

"What is it?" he demands, thinking to hurry this chat along. He knows it won't make a difference.

"We're not going to talk," Leonard declares, surprising Jim. He nods at Spock, who produces a data padd and a stylus and sets them down in front of Jim.

"We're going to be friends," Leonard goes on to say. "All three of us. So write out your terms."

"What?" He's fairly certain that he heard McCoy wrong.

"Write out your terms," the man beside him repeats. When Jim doesn't pick up the stylus, the man huffs and drags the padd and stylus his way and activates the screen of a word processor. While Jim watches him, still puzzling over what Bones actually means to accomplish, Leonard scratches out a long sentence and then signs his name under it. He slides the padd back in front of Jim.

It reads: _I will remain friends with James Tiberius Kirk regardless of circumstance, conflicting interests, or other relationships until such time as he declares our friendship null and void._

Jim has to read it twice. "Is this a joke?"

"I don't sign my jokes, kid." Leonard looks across the table to Spock. "It's binding, right?"

"Affirmative, although it is... quaint," Spock adds, having read the passage over Jim's shoulder, "and somewhat childish in nature. It would still be legally binding."

"You can't legally bind friendships!" exclaims Jim.

"Why the hell not?" counters Leonard. "This is my oath that I am your friend, Jim. If you don't accept this, then I don't know how else to convince you that I'm serious."

Jim starts to shake his head.

"And I'll also take it that you don't want me as a friend anymore, in which case I guess I'm gonna be heartbroken enough to resign my commission. You know I'm only out here because you asked me to be your CMO."

Man, that's a low blow and Bones knows it. Still, Jim finds himself hesitantly picking up the stylus. "Do I sign under your name?"

"That would suffice," Spock replies.

Jim presses his mouth into a thin line as he reads the sentence again. He sets the tip of the stylus to the padd just as McCoy cries, "Wait a second!" and then snatches it away.

"Bones?"

Leonard takes the stylus back too and scribbles something else on the padd. Then he hands everything to Jim again, seeming frighteningly pleased with himself.

There are additions:

_I will remain friends with James Tiberius Kirk regardless of circumstance, conflicting interests, or other relationships until such time as he declares our friendship null and void, and given the following stipulations that James T. Kirk:_  
_i) acknowledges when his friends are right and he is wrong_  
_ii) never drinks alone_  
_iii) obeys the wisdom of his physician and EATS ALL HIS VEGETABLES WITHOUT HIDING THEM IN HIS NAPKIN._

"Fascinating," murmurs Spock.

"Our friendship should not have _conditions_."

Leonard looks smug. "Sign it."

With narrowed eyes, Jim curls his arm around the side of the padd so Leonard can't see it and hunches over the device to make a new declaration.

When he returns it to McCoy, he is equally smug.

_I will remain friends with Leonard Horatio McCoy regardless of circumstance, conflicting interests, or other relationships until such time as he declares our friendship null and void and ONLY IF he lets me call him Sourpatch, stops jabbing me viciously with hypos, never ever ever ever locks me out of his quarters even when he hates all life in the universe, and takes a holopic with me and Spock on every shore leave._

Jim has signed it.

Leonard purses his mouth. His only comment is "I look awful in holopics."

Jim stares at him a short second before signing his name to Leonard's oath as well. Leonard takes the stylus from him and signs his name under Jim's demands.

Then they turn to Spock.

Spock blinks back but makes no move to take the proffered device.

"It's only fair," Leonard says.

"Aw, c'mon, Spock," Jim urges him. "It's for fun."

Still, he stares at them.

Leonard says to Jim, "Better make it a good one, kid."

Jim nods, already writing on the padd. When he's done, he hands it back to Leonard, who signs it without comment and passes it along to Spock.

Jim had written: _May the bond of friendship between S'chn T'gai Spock and myself prosper until such time that is absolved._

"There are no conditions," remarks the Vulcan in a soft tone.

"Why should there be?" Jim asks. "We like you as you are."

"Yeah, whereas Jim and I are fixer-ups, you're a pretty good deal."

"Hey there, Sourpatch, speak for yourself."

"Shut up, kid."

Jim is feeling much, much better. Why had he been intent on getting drunk? It is possible he may have overreacted to a few things.

They watch as Spock prints his name in Vulcan script under theirs. Then he does the same thing beneath the other two statements.

"So it's settled then," Leonard states. "No more crap about who's friends with whom."

"Got it," Jim agrees.

"Thank god," says Leonard, leaning along the table to retrieve Jim's decanter of Saurian brandy. "I need a drink. Feels like I just sold my soul."

"Aw, Bones," Jim replies, slipping an arm around the man's shoulders, "don't worry. Spock and I will take good care of it."

The man makes a rude noise.

"In return," Jim adds playfully, "you get to take care of mine and Spock's!"

"Christ, that's the last thing I need—to be entrusted with Spock's mortal soul."

Their third companion tilts his head ever-so-slightly. "I would have hope that such a thing would benefit you, Doctor, but I believe even the _katra_ of a Vulcan could not stem the flood of illogic of which your mind is comprised."

Leonard's glass hits the table with a thunk. "Why you green-blooded—"

"Compliments," the Vulcan retorts smartly.

"Screw the damn compliments! Being nice to you is too hard and you know it, you smug bastard! There are a _whole_ list of things I've been wanting to say to you..."

Spock folds his hands across the tabletop, the glint in his dark eyes reflected in Leonard's. "I have gathered as much. You may proceed, Dr. McCoy."

Leonard leans in, drink forgotten, and does just that.

While the conversation going on around Jim gets louder (on Bones' half) and wittier (Spock's), with a small smile Jim draws the data padd closer to the edge of the table and taps away upon it. He makes copies of the contract to send out, one to his personal padd, another to a remote console back on Earth, and another to hide inside the ship's databanks, and yet another to send to a top-secret known-only-to-Jim-Kirk location where he backs up the most precious of documents...

"Jim?"

He looks up at the sound of his name, realizing that Spock and Bones had ceased to indulge in a long-awaited verbal spar when his attention strayed.

"What're you doing?" Leonard asks.

"Just backing up the file," he says.

"Oh geez. Where are you storing it? If that gets out..."

"No worries, Bones." He scrolls through some of his hasty coding, showing it to the man. "I only forwarded it to a couple of places. My cabin, Spock's," he reads off the list, "my apartment on Earth, Scotty—"

Spock jerks slightly forward.

"Wait," Jim implores of his friends before they can speak, "hold on, that can't be right!"

But there is it, by accident, the net address of Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott.

His eyes grow wide. He handed over their snarky, elementary schoolish BFFs contract to Scotty. "Um," he forces himself to admit out loud, "yeah, I may have accidentally sent a copy to him."

Leonard makes a hair-raising noise and leaps across the table. Whether he's aiming for Jim or the padd is unclear. Jim doesn't wait to find out. He dives sideways out of his chair and makes a run for it.

"JIM!" he hears behind him.

"I didn't do it on purpose!" Jim dashes into the bathroom and frantically punches the close button on the interior lock mechanism, certain he's about to be torn into pieces. "Scotty won't even read it, I swear!"

As the door closes, it's Leonard's enraged face he sees up-close through the gap. Then the door is shut, and a loud thud hits it from the opposite side as Jim's pursuer connects with the solid paneling.

Jim rakes a hand through his hair, cursing.

_Why, oh why,_ he thinks, stabbing at the padd screen futilely, _would anyone invent a messaging system without a recall function!_

* * *

_"Personal Log, Helen Marie Noel._

_We're en route to the nearest starbase for the Captain's promised shore leave. This will surely be a good thing for everyone aboard, myself included, as the ship's morale has been on a marginal decline for several weeks. Although, within the last three days there has been a significant upbeat in the general mood. I didn't mention this in my official log, of course, because I wouldn't want to embarrass anyone, but..."_

Laughing is heard.

_"Last night I received the cutest petition to befriend Captain Kirk! Rumor has it there are two similar ones going around for Dr. McCoy and Mr. Spock. They were originally part of a single contract—written with some interesting language, I'm told—but it had to be split up because of the sheer volume of crewmen wanting to sign their names and add comments. Now, I could speculate how this document came into existence but that would negate the fun of it. Suffice to say, I did manage to squeeze my name and a smiley face onto a corner of Jim's petition and did my duty by forwarding it on to a few colleagues._

_I believe this will make a nice case study for the future. At the moment I would hypothesize that Mr. Spock will receive the most signatures and fewest comments—mainly because people will be excited at a chance to show he is a favorite among the command staff but also will wish to respect his Vulcan dignity by keeping it clean. Kirk will, of course, have the most addendums to the friendship clause, many of which will be ridiculous enough and rude enough to delight him to no end. What a strange man that one is! And McCoy..."_

Laughter comes again, lower this time.

_"Well, by vote he has been awarded Sexiest Crew Member Aboard three years running. Not that he knows anything about those contests which occur on the lower decks... So I daresay we will catch our country doctor quite by surprise!_

_On a different note, I am pleased to see that these stubborn men are finally on their way to a long, lovely and solid friendship._

_Now if only I could get my handbook back—I have new sections to write!"_

**The End**


End file.
